


Rewrite the Stars

by EmeraldSage



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1950s, Alaska, Cold War, Introspection, M/M, Mpreg, Secret Relationship, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 20:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: In the seconds between words, the minutes between shared glances, and a lifetime of possibilities arises.  For star-shine smiles and sunlit laughter, and the warmth of a love shared unhesitatingly across borders of war.(Or rather, when Alfred's pregnant with Alaska in the middle of the Cold War, and Ivan comes to take care of him, because neither of them would have it any other way.)





	Rewrite the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I just did. Gah.  
> I wrote this in the day, I hope it's okay.

Ivan made his way into Alaska with little to no issue.  After over a century of traversing the icy waters of the Bering Strait, he knew the journey well.  It was no qualm for a nation of his age and status to evade the patrols and security America’s government had put along the Aleutian islands and along the invisible barrier that held their lands apart.

And crossing that invisible barrier was even easier, and far less consequential, than when he crossed the same barrier between their hearts.

Alaska was familiar ground, he thought, determined to put that rather perilous line of thought out of his mind, even more so now that it had passed into America’s keeping.  It’s population had grown considerably from the tiny land colony it had once been when Russia had first taken it on, and he’d grown inordinately fond of the time he spent here.

Time, which had been plentiful until the Revolutions.  Until the Wars. And since then, the first time he’d been back since then...that last time….

Flashes of heated kisses, the feeling of hands tangled in his hair.  Breathless moans and whispered pleas and blue that refused to turn away.

He shook the memories away, cheeks far too flushed even exposed as they were to the chill air of an Alaskan February.  Perhaps he was not as good at pushing the topic away from his thoughts as he’d hoped. Although, given who he was here to see...it was really no wonder.

_ Round where it should’ve been firm, a hand settling on top of his own as he warred with the disbelief in his mind.  Because he knew - he knewknew _ **_knew_ ** _ it like he knew his own name - what was underneath the roundness, firm against his hand.  Knew it even before blue eyes - hard and soft and warring between desire and duty - fastened onto his own and whispered truth into the air between them. _

_ “Vanya, I’m…” _

A strong gust of wind brushed against him, drawing him from memory, and bringing his attention to the intensifying weather around him.  He tucked his scarf tighter around him and sighed. He’d have to make haste to get to the cabin before the storm hit.

They’d chosen the location for the cabin together, going back into the early 1800s, when he’d first started settling the land, its location enshrined in his brain.  It had been far enough from the town closest that they would have substantial privacy, but close enough that it wasn’t too much trouble to go in for supplies. It was large enough that they had two pantries and an extra storage space, and cozy enough that it brought them together.  It was dangerous, the distance, given that the next blizzard that blew through would strand them for days, even weeks at times before they dared risking a journey for supplies. But, then again, that’s why they’d built so much storage into the quaint little building. And the building itself, oh, that had been quite the process - juggling nation duties, untimely blizzards, and the occasional bear who wandered through (much to Alfred’s delight).  But it’d been a labor of love, for him. Building a space together with the bright-eyed, sunny young teenager, who’d just stepped into nationhood...it had been an experience he’d never expected.

It had made the cabin  _ special _ , for both of them.  Which was why, despite their tensions and the risk - if he was discovered - he was heading there now.

In fact...he squinted through the light dusting snow that had begun to fall.  Yes, that was it, on the horizon. And as he drew closer, he could see their tell-tale bright green shutters framing the windows.  He felt the corner of his lips twitch up slightly.

_ He blinked.  “Amerika...why are the shutters  _ **_green_ ** _?” _

_ A distracted hum answered him, as the teenage nation and part-time contortionist wrapped his legs around one of the ceiling beams, stretching an arm out while upside down to reinforce the knots holding the ceiling’s insulation up until they could finish installing it.  “Whassat?” _

_ “The shutters, Alfred,” he said again, eyes darting back to the brightly painted - pretty, but way too bright - shutters laying on a crate, waiting for one of them to put them up.  “Why are they green?” _

_ Alfred let go of the knot he was working on, finally satisfied, and swung to look his way.  The teenager blinked, and shrugged - as much as he could still upside down - as he eyed them, “They’re happy.” _

_ And that was that _ .

He still chuckled at that memory whenever it popped up.  Alfred had been like a whirlwind; starshine and sunlit and happy, even if all they’d been doing were putting up shutters, and just chaotic enough for an old Empire to be constantly surprised.  He’d loved that feeling.

And the shutters, he noted, were still as green as when they’d painted them well over a hundred years ago.

He didn’t bother knocking as he came up to the door; it wouldn’t be worth the effort, especially if Alfred hadn’t arrived yet.  Instead, he slipped a key-ring from where he’d tucked it away, and unlatched the four locks they’d installed on the door.

He hurried inside as soon as it clicked open, shutting it soundlessly behind him to keep out the increasing storm.  He made an idle note to check the pantries and storage to make sure they were well stocked away for when the storm made the roads impassable.  He had the feeling they’d be stuck here for some time yet.

A shiver of worry traced its way down his spine as the thought occurred to him: what if Alfred wouldn’t make it before the storm blew in?

He dismissed it easily within seconds; Alfred would’ve felt the storm brewing.  He would be prepared, even if he made it after Ivan did.

Barely a minute later and even those worries were relieved when he caught sight of familiar bomber jacket hung up on the coat rack just inside the kitchen.  The little signs of the living space being occupied stuck out to him now: a coaster on their coffee table, the blanket on the couch folded haphazardly, the gleam of a plate in the dry sink, already rinsed….

He swallowed as the voice in his head - the whisper he’d been suppressing since he’d begun his trek eastwards - decided to make itself known and cooed viciously about how domestic he was with his enemy.  He shook it off and shoved it back in the box it’d been in. But it was an unfortunate reminder of the tenuousness of their situation.

_ “Are you  _ **_insane_ ** _?!” _

_ Ivan didn’t even flinch against the accusation as it was hurtled against him _ .  _  He just stared down the very angry, very pregnant nation who was glaring at him like he’d suggested something horrible rather than something so common sensical. _

_ “Nyet,” he responded calmly, “You are spread too thin.  Your states cannot stay with you full time without arousing suspicion.  You cannot remain in your capital because you risk other nations discovering your condition as you get further along.  And towards the end, you  _ **_cannot_ ** _ do this alone.  Alaska is already giving you trouble and you are barely four months in - you  _ **_need_ ** _ someone there.” _

_ Blue eyes narrowed, “But not  _ **_you_ ** _ ,” he hissed.  “You think either of our governments would allow it?  Now, especially. We both know how  _ **_happy_ ** _ your government is about instating Alaska as a state,” he added, the sarcastic, pointed drawl paired with a vicious blue-eyed glare. _

_ “So long as they know nothing of the child, it does not matter,” Ivan retorted bluntly, but that just agitated the other even more. _

_ “And how are you going to justify it to your bosses, then?” he demanded. _

_ Ivan’s smirk was dangerous, “My bosses may demand as they will, but they know as well as I that should they command of me something I do not wish to do, it would be as easy for them as commanding the breeze.  As I’m sure  _ **_your_ ** _ government has long since learned.” _

_ Alfred snorted, but his aggressive posture softened just a tad.  It was the truth, after all. _

_ “And what makes you think I  _ **_want_ ** _ you to be there?” he demanded instead. _

_ Ivan smiled coldly at the blue-eyed superpower, “I would be surprised.  You certainly seemed to want me there when you fell into my bed.” _

_ He may have deserved the lamp that the other threw at him. _

He’d just been lucky Alfred hadn’t thrown something harder to dodge.  The teenager had known he’d been right...although Ivan had intentionally driven him to that edge.

His dorogoy was so beautiful when he was furious.  Perhaps that was why, with their enmity prompting them, he tested the other so.

He removed his boots, setting them down gently on the rack next to the door, besides another pair already present.  He shed his jacket, hooking it up next to a brown counterpart. As he moved past the entryway, he could hear the  _ snap-crackle-pop _ of logs in the fire burning merrily in the fireplace.  He wondered how he’d missed the smoke from the chimney on his walk over.

The stairs whispered as he climbed them, well kept, and he smiled as he slipped down the upper hallway.  Already, he could tell that there was no one residing in any of the three upper level rooms. Not the small nursery they’d set up, for when the baby grew old enough to sleep nights on their own.  Not the bathroom, nor the small guest bedroom he was occasionally exiled to. It didn’t stop him from peering into each room, either way. The second level of their cabin only covered half of the cabin, though, ensuring a layer of insulation on the lower rooms while leaving the living space and kitchen with a higher ceiling and a more open floor plan.

So, it was the lower rooms that his target resided within.

There were only two rooms on the main level, aside from the living, kitchen, and entryway.  The bathroom he already knew was empty - he couldn’t hear any of the flooring sigh under unwary footsteps - so it was into the master bedroom he ventured.

He pushed the door open soundlessly, and stopped, framed in the doorway.

There he was.

Golden hair sprawled across the pillow, as Alfred burrowed into its warmth.  A knit quilt was splayed across the teenage nation’s body, curled as it was facing the wall.  A single hand curled tightly in the fabric. The only sound was the whisper of Alfred’s breath as he slept and the increasing wind that was only kept at a dull sigh because of the thickly layered window.

And Ivan was content, for the moment, to just stare at the peaceful figure of the bold, young nation who’d dominated his thoughts for centuries.

_ “You’re a bold one, child,” he’d mused, laughing inwardly at the look the teenage colony had given him at being called a child.  “And what will you be called?” _

_ And the teenager had smiled, teeth gleaming, his whole face brightening like it was aglow with the stars’ own radiance, “I’m the United States of America.” _

Alfred stirs then, as Ivan knew he would if he’d stared too long, and blinks awake between one breath and the next.  He shifts away from the wall, head tilted until he catches Ivan’s vivid violet-eyed gaze. The teenage-nation raised a brow, lips twisting in wry amusement but no surprise, and didn’t hide the warmth in his eyes quickly enough for Ivan to miss it.

“Can’t you ever give me a heads up when you come here, like a normal person?” the younger nation complained, pushing himself up off of the mattress before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Ivan grinned, even as Alfred grimaced, hand drifting to the substantially bigger bulge around his abdomen as he tried to maneuver off the bed.  “But we are not normal people, Amerika,” Ivan reminded him with a droll smile.

Alfred gave him a pointed look, “And what if you’d gotten caught crossing the border,” he asked dryly, “or without paperwork?”   _ Or leaving any form of legal record of you being here? _

Ivan sent him a lock of mock disbelief, “And dear Amerika would not have come to my rescue?  Like a true  _ hero _ ?”

Alfred leveled him with a flat, deadpan stare as he finally pushed himself off of the bed, hand snapping out to press flat against the wall when he wobbled a bit.  Ivan almost reached out a hand to steady the younger, but caught himself before he could.

“I think I would leave you for a night in lock up,” Alfred retorted, smirking at Ivan’s scoff at the idea that any prison - let alone one in rural Alaska - would be able to hold him for even a night.

“You wound me, dorogoy.”

Alfred scoffed, “Not bloody likely,” he said, before his stomach growled. Loudly.  They both stared for a second, before Alfred shook his head, cheeks tinted slightly pink and made for the doorway.

Alfred pauses, though, after the abrupt end to their banter, and gives Ivan a look as he heads out the door to the kitchen, with the same star-shine smile he'd given him almost two hundred years ago, and said, quietly, "I'm glad you're here."

Then he turned, walked away, and left Ivan breathless with the knowledge that what they were doing was against everything their people wanted.  But it was worth every second of it.

In that second, in that minute, in that lifetime held between their breath, Ivan felt the rising hope in the air for the promise of tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!!!


End file.
